From Roswell to Fort Sumner. Featuring, David!

October 18th, 2024.

My seasonal move back to Big Bear, California was around the corner. Fall usually brings another wave of severe weather to the plains, however more sporadic and over a larger variety of states. My chances to have the ability to chase, let alone somewhere within a days drive were becoming lower. But the stars began to line up for a multiple day event in New Mexico. Friday through Monday all advertised the possibility of organized severe weather, with the highest confidence centered on Saturday. I was on a bootstrapped budget to say the least, but I had to give it a shot. I left Midlothian Friday morning, heading off to Clovis, New Mexico.

It still trips me out intentionally driving through the middle of nowhere… to get to the middle of nowhere.

It’s an interesting feeling to sit with. However, I’ve grown to love it. Myself, some iced coffee, bugs all over the windshield and my favorite punk rock all the way there. Well, sometimes an audiobook.

Friday’s setup was looking more and more bleak. Once I got to Clovis, nothing even tried to take off. I stopped at a storm chaser haven (Chipotle). I had some dinner solo, and checked into my favorite hotel in the area. It has a special chasing story attached to it that I’ll write about next. To be fair, I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. Saturday was my target, and if anything else worked out, I would have considered it a bonus.

I watched the gloomy sunrise from my hotel window. A low ceiling of clouds blanketed the entire landscape. Good sign for moisture. I went over to the other chaser haven (Starbucks) across the street and ran through forecasts. SPC green, HRRR green, basic data green, chaser conversations green. The prospective outlook was a mid to late afternoon initiation of supercells, initially starting as regular storms coming off the mountains further west. As far as I’ve heard, this is a pretty typical setup for the landscape. Ramping helps moisture push through the atmosphere, and that snowballs into stronger, more organized storms as it treks through more prevalent moisture, wind shear, etc. in the plains.

I drove south west to Roswell for positioning. And stopped at my next favorite place (Starbucks, seeing a pattern?). Ran through forecasts and discussions again with discrete cells likely to form in the afternoon. Confidence was pretty high.

Now it was time to watch paint dry!

I drove to a point in between Roswell and Fort Sumner. The road network was extremely limited. Literally 2 highways for 20 miles. That was it. Luckily, the highways were fantastic with plenty of spots to safely pull off and fast travel speeds. I positioned at this intersection, figuring it would gave me a great spot to make a north or south play, or head to safety if necessary. I finally made a solid chasing decision for once.

I sat there for over two hours, literally standing on the fence line watching the clouds. Once 3 o’clock or so hit, I started to notice other chasers driving by and parking a little further in front of me. Two radar signatures popped up just east of the mountains.

Textbook.

However, I stayed patient. I didn’t want to bite too early. I had a fantastic position, and I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself. So I sat. And surprise! Waited.

Maybe another half an hour or so had passed, and the two main storms were organizing. They started to show signs of rotation, and my excitement began skyrocketing. Doing my best to keep my cool, I drove up to the other side of the lot and watched over the hill in front of me. I couldn’t quite see anything clear, but the base on the middle storm should start becoming visible. Sure enough, it just barely peaked over the hill, and I was off!

The middle storm looked great on radar, had a low base, and gave me more options to reposition. I drove up the 285 several miles to start looking for a solid viewpoint. And ideally, great compositions I could work with that were in line with the storm motion. I had royally screwed that up on practically every chase before then, so I made a stronger effort to do my homework.

First stop was peaceful. Quiet. And had cows. Nothing else though.

Not a bad spot at all, but the sloping hill on the left made me worried about having an imbalanced foreground depending on where the storm tracks. But before I moved spots, I got my first glimpse of the two young supercells. Two bases. And barren desert land as far as you could see.

Ohh, and cows.

I was flirting with rain curtains a little too much, so I drove further south to stay out of the precipitation. I didn’t have to go very far, as I crested a small hill and immediately loved the flat, even terrain ahead with little to no rain. That was my spot.

Within that small amount of time, this storm went from showing promise to becoming a full blown supercell. A ragged, low base with the core taking on some stunning teals.

I began to dissociate the same way again, something that storms only seem to be able to do to me. I mentioned it in the last blog, but it really is like watching yourself as the main character in a movie. You’re there… but it feels dreamlike. As if it was surreal. But it’s not. You’ve taken so many steps to be exactly where you are, and by no accident. Yet all of a sudden, you’re in shock. And almost can’t even believe you’re watching the thing you set out to… watch! It’s bizarre, but very profound.

I got the first shot.

I threw my lightning trigger on and put all my chips on red!!

I nailed it.

I jumped up and down, punched the air and yelled out of excitement like a kid on frickin’ Christmas morning. The emotion of, not only standing right there in front of that storm, but formally recording it as well was extremely powerful. My window for my shot was about 15 minutes. But it was the big domino. And it made the hours of driving and waiting and contemplating worth it.

This supercell began morphing into a high precipitation beast. The rain expanded with the core getting larger and larger. The shot started to look awkward with the imbalanced foreground, but the storm was still just epic.

I repositioned shortly after this shot, going back to that intersection and taking the next highway up to Fort Sumner. About half way up, I had an adjacent view of my storm,

Blu!

There were no crossroads there. Just this one highway, and more vacant desert landscape for miles.

At some point in the timelapse it got tornado warned. I didn’t see anything apparent, but Blu was putting on a show regardless. And, luckily, over unpopulated areas.

I continued north to Fort Sumner as it got closer to sunset. I set up for one more shot.

Blue hour started to set in, and I got on the highway headed to Clovis.

I chose a different hotel this time around. A little more rough around the edges to be frank. But, I weirdly felt at home. Pulling into the parking lot met me with trucks from every walk of life. 300,000 miles and still somehow rolling. New, spec’d out Chevy’s for electrical work. 150’s with local contractor businesses on the driver side doors with dings on the bumpers.

The heart of working America. And I fucking loved it.

Walking in smelled like old conversations and lingering cigarette smoke. With my duffel bag, backpack and tripod in hand, I got to my room and crashed for the night.

These areas aren’t necessarily… nice. But they are real. They are unapologetically themselves. They won’t hold your hand. But they won’t steer you wrong either. They have a natural gravity that seems to be easily lost in modern America. It never fails to be refreshing when I’m on the road.

I walked past a gentleman on my way to check out in the morning, nodding heads and saying “Good mornin’!” A quick breakfast later, and it was time to head over to my favorite place again! Take a guess… no it’s not a trick question. Or maybe it is?

That damn Starbucks sign popped up, and I set up shop. Rolling through the forecast, the chances of something firing off was still high. It was projected to be later in the day and, as far as I figured out, closer to the I-40. I drove north west from Clovis, trying to find, like the day before, a flexible spot to make decisions.

Just me, my crosstrek, and flat farm land for what seemed like infinite miles.

I was looking for a place to pull over in this valley. I crested a small hill and saw a dirt road about a mile ahead with a clear vantage point. I then immediately saw a small, black dot in the middle of the road. Rock, pothole, trash? I let off the gas trying to pick out what it was, then hit the brakes hard.

I pulled over to the side of the road. I got out, checked for oncoming cars, and walked to the other side of the road. Sure enough, a desert tarantula was just cruising along the road. The last time I’ve seen one just out and about, I was a kid back in Upland, California.

I instantaneously met a new friend, and gave him a very fitting, arachnid worthy name; David! I shoed him over to the side of the road before he became roadkill. Or myself at that point. He posed for the camera and said hi back.

David is awesome. And I refuse to believe otherwise.

Getting back in the car, I turned around and went down to that road. The late afternoon was beautiful. But I wasn’t seeing much in regards to starting storms. Nothing on radar either. Forecasts change at, what felt like, a minute by minute basis.

Next thing I know, dread fills my mind. I’m in the wrong spot. And the one storm that starts does so in the exact same way as yesterday.

I could have put my tripod in the EXACT SAME DAMN SPOT and gotten an incredible shot. But I did not. I screwed up. By the time I realized my mistake and wanted to drop south, I was just too far away to make it happen. Ouch.

Shout out to Jake Werth and the other photographers that forecasted ahead of the curve and got there in time. It broke my heart missing that supercell. But hey, you just don’t get them all.

At least I got to take a photo of David! Which unironically became one of my favorite memories of the entire trip and the only photo I got all Sunday.

I made the decision at that point to stop chasing. Next stop was Amarillo, Texas. One of my favorite places to be weirdly enough. Checking into the Atrea Inn, I was yet again met with trucks of all sorts, but some road trippers too. Plates from Florida, Colorado, Indiana, New York, you name it.

The morning was crisp with beautiful blues saturating every corner of the sky. I stopped by Palace Coffee and got a pour over. Now, that’s a wrap.

And as I have come to love more and more, driving through the middle of nowhere with a cup of coffee was the best way to spend the rest of my Monday morning.

Until next time!